5 worst meals

10/31/11

meal after unsuccessful search for tokat kebab.  Tokat is famous for a kabob which features alternating slices of lamb, eggplant, onion, tomato and the whole thing is studded with garlic. The tower of power spins in front of the fire and the juices from all items intermingle and baste.  We spent several hours in search of this culinary golden fleece.  We tried kabob store after kabob store without success.  Finally, starving, we found ourselves in that paralyzed brain cramp of crum.  Barely getting one foot in front of another we looked up and saw people eating and drinking on a balcony.  It ended up being a harshly lit cafeteria with plastic menus and big color pictures of bad overpriced entrees.  Live to fight another day.

butter tea.  This Himalayan staple is reportedly a tonic that has a lot of vitamins.  However it is made from rancid butter and may be one of those things that one needs to "acquire a taste for."  Let me be more specific--RANCID!

chili and cheese again.  The national dish of Bhutan is chili and cheese.  Bhutan is in a valley surrounded by the Himalayas, and there is no salt occurring in Bhutan.  So historically and currently, chili is used a preservative and to kill bacteria.  Spicy chillies cooked with cheese.  It's actually pretty tasty but after fourteen straight meals...you get the picture

no meal on train.  Our first overnight train ride found us unprepared.  Twenty four hours from Istanbul to Bucharest.  I think we figured that we were going to get fed.  But no.  Twelve hours in and we were rifling through all our bags in search of crumbs.  We located a tin of anchovies (lesvos), a tin of preserved figs (Ikaria) and a jar of honey (also Ikaria).  Our sigh of relief did not last long.  The anchovies had disintegrated to salty hair and the preserved figs tasted like bad spiced liquid fruitcake.  Honey can only get you so far.

in search of xo sauce

nom wah's turnip cake in xo sauce did not live up to expectations, but the other dim sum offerings, red leather banquets and rekindled childhood memories made the trip worthwhile.  When I was a kid that little nook of doyers street WAS chinatown.  nom wah was THE spot for weekend tea lunch.  And I remember eating subgum wonton and crab with ginger and scallions next door (and down a steep flight of stairs) at Wo Kee when i was barely out of diapers.  Randy was the manager and he smuggled me fortune cookies.  More recently, it has been a Vietnamese restaurant (and a good one) for over thirty years.

Nom Wah, reportedly chinatown's oldest dim sum parlor, is back on my radar. 

the annual

10/17/2011

fifty plus years of four families congregating in new england to age gracefully and celebrate the fall foliage.  Growing exponentially out of a weekend camping trip by four law school buddies (one of whom is my father) into a multi-generational frenzy of touch football, hiking, wine, apples, babies, photos and philosophizing.  The crowd has gradually grown to include girlfriends, wives, children, death, divorce and even more children.

homeward bound

2/23/2011
mysteres mekong

Found this entry while doing the top ten meals.  It was in drafts.  Better late than never.  Published on 10/19/11.

last bit of culture for myself and the twins.  Royal Palace.  Silver floors and emerald buddha.  We find ourselves a little jaded (ouch).  Jill soldiers on solo heading for the National Museum and the Russian Market.

continued from the airport at phnom penh on 2/24.

spent the rest of yesterday at the pool reading Snow and hanging with the twins.  Although they may have been bored at times over the last six months it is amazing how many minute details they remember.  Names of cities, entrees on menus, taxi rides, hotel room toilets, water color, pool temperature, 

top ten walkabout meals

1. First greek salad in Athens.  It may have been a tourist trap a few blocks from our first hotel.  The place definitely had the fan misting things to cool things down and the waiters spoke excellent English.  But tomatoes, olives, lettuce, feta cheese, cucumbers and onions never tasted so good.  Following our friend Quinn's advice, I don't think there were a lot of days in Greece where we did not have the namesake salad.  That first one was the one that started it all.

2.  Fried pig in romania.  One never knows when one's world is gonna get rocked.  Completely unexpectedly it happened in the boonies in Romania (what was once Hungary) some five kms from where my great grandfather Salamon Simon may have hailed from.   The main draw was the proximity to our Hungarian roots and the opportunity to sleep in some crazed Saxon drawer beds.  What is etched in our stomachs is the epic chow prepared by the owner of the home we were staying in.   The meal redefined the terms "farm to table," "barnyard" and "terroir".  Vegetable soup, carrot risotto, cole slaw, and some fried pork ribs that were scandalous.  Topped off by some lingonberry crepe.  Drinking pink wine and some eau de vie that spoke of the back yard (in the most complimentary way).

3.  kabob in sanliurfa.  This no brainer screamed out to us as we walked along the main drag looking for the bazaar (which we never found).  The piles of fresh mint, cilantro, onion, basil and lime sections caught our eye.  The outdoor counter was seemingly at knee level, and we sat in a row with our backs facing the sidewalk.  Chunks of tasty grilled meat, a stack of hot flat bread, the above mentioned garnishes along with a few other unidentifiable liquid condiments and you can finish this sentence.  Afterwards we topped things off with some pistachio baklava and a family viewing of Spinal Tap.  Heaven.

4.  in the tent in bhutan. There is something about eating at high altitude.  The elevation makes you hungrier and the food tastes better.  11,000 feet up in Bhutan was no exception to the rule.  Amongst chortens, prayer flags and yaks drifting around, we snuggled in the mess tent for paneer curry, cucumber salad, rice, broccoli with ginger, and finished up with killer bread pudding done on the camp stove with a special bhutanese bain marie maneuver.

5.  morning glory shoots in oyster sauce.  We ate this one dollar dish nearly every day we were in cambodia.  Have had similar dishes in chinatown featuring pea shoots.  But this was the real deal.  Especially the night we ate it at at plastic tables/chairs on the sidewalk in siem reap after a day of watting. The cooking occurred in woks on glorified camp stoves seven feet from your ears,  the lights were strung up on a fence, and the cash register was a cookie tin.  When the lights went out and the music went off, we continued eating morning glory shoots, truly giant prawns and drinking beer along with everybody else.

6.  fondue in switzerland.  Running late and underestimating the travel time, we ended up taking a desperation cab ride (quel horreur) to get to the Geneva classic, Cafe du Soleil.  We rushed out of the cab, into the restaurant and despite some odd stares promptly found our way to a table.  When somebody finally came over to see us, it became apparent that our reservation was at the restaurant next door.  After sheepishly bailing, we found ourselves at our true destination talking to someone who informed us that there was no reservation for hanson but there was one for benson so some sort of administrative switch was made and the situation was regularized.  All very confusing, but culminating successfully with assiette viandes sechees, a flowery white, salade paysanne, and the best fondue i have ever had which magically maintained a perfect consistency throughout the meal.  Some secret ingredient is clearly involved (not nutmeg).

7.  sardines in greece at the unesco world heritage site (molyvos)? could be mytilini. on the dock.  Menu in greek.  Stuffed squash blossoms with local cheese.  We asked the guy to bring us what he liked.  Sardines grilled right out of the ocean. We went back the next night.  great success!

8.  the grill your own meat spot just outside of Trabzon.  We had intended to sleep In Trabzon, but spent an hour driving around trying to find the center of town.  There are no street signs in Turkey except for the tiniest alleys.  Verbal directions usually include various contradictory suggestions and amazingly kooky estimations of distances.  After many frustrating forays, Jill decided to abandon the Trabzon plan.  We stopped at what looked like a restaurant, and walked in to find a butcher shop.  Smelling grilled meat from the backyard we headed back there and noted some tables and grills.  Nobody paid much attention to us as we moseyed about trying to suss things out.  No menus anywhere. We were hungry and clueless so we attempted to leave and find something less intimidating.  On the way out people started giving us an extensive explanation of the scenario in rapid fire Turkish.  Jill and the kids went next door to the market.  I finally figured things out with a lot of sign language.  Go to the meat counter tell the guy how many koftas (meat patties) you want, he weighs them and then they grill them for you tableside.  Sinfully good.  Even Ben was happy.

9.  pasta with saffron at enzo's.  Proving that good friends, good wine, and good spirits can make a winner.  We spent a bunch of time at Enzo's house in Geneva (including some time when he and his family were in Italy).  Prior to leaving for his folks' house, Enzo and Monica prepared a simple pasta dish that spoke volumes (saffron, marscapone, nutmeg, one egg, grated parm, white pepper.)  We had the good fortune to follow up the entree with macaroons and finestkind grappa.  Good sleep.

10.  peking duck.  Got turned around in residential Bejing.  Followed the international sign for Peking Duck.  Ate Peking duck.  i love Peking duck. Game over.

restaurant in tokaj

making balanchine proud

10/3/11

Wobbling around on my ankle after a bunch of days on concrete.  The surgery is beginning to look like the only option. And now, out of left field, I have plantar fasciitis in the other heel to make me whine even more. Enough.

So Clare will be in the Nutcracker.  Cast B.  She is in the party scene and is an angel (doh!).  Rehearsals started yesterday.  She will be in twenty four performances.  This is gonna be kooky.  Lots of logistics and the need for bombproof buns.

I have been going to the Nutcracker every year for as long as I can remember.  The ballet has  pirouetted weirdly through my life.  Balanchine lived at 27 w 67 for many years up until he died.  When the elevator men went on strike, he took his turn driving the elevator and sorting the mail. Patricia McBride and Jean Pierre-Bonfous lived there as well.  My parents were friends with them all and we saw them socially from time to time.  Pretty cool when your neighbor is pinching your cheek one day, and the next you are watching her rock the Sugar Plum Fairy role.

My first elementary school crush was Clara in the NYCB Nutcracker and was featured in a

book.  I later took her to our senior prom.  Weird.